


Voices Calling

by jaclynhyde



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: F/M, Family, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 11:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8889550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaclynhyde/pseuds/jaclynhyde
Summary: When Cecil falls into a deep sleep, it's Rosa's turn to save him—Rosa, and a not entirely unexpected ally.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [girlnamedlance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlnamedlance/gifts).



> girlnamedlance, I hope you have a wonderful Yuletide--I had so much fun writing this fic! Thank you to my wonderful beta vanishinghitchhiker; also thank you to Yuletide chat, especially karanguni for their help with scientific logistics. All remaining mistakes are mine. Spoilery content warnings are in the endnotes.
> 
> The title is inspired by a lyrical version of FFIV's Theme of Love called Into the Light: the song is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_ACB-smA0l4%0A) (it's gorgeous, listen to it!) and lyrics [here](http://www.fflyrics.com/ffpray.html). Some characterization is inspired by The After Years and Dissidia.

It was a week into her vigil at Cecil's bedside—a week after he had been found unconscious at the outskirts of Baron—that Queen Rosa saw the star fall from the sky.

Rosa was holding Cecil's unresponsive hand, running her thumb over his wedding ring, as the healer overseeing Cecil's care briefed her. "We still haven't found anything wrong with him, Your Majesty," he said. "We're researching every lead we can think of, we just haven't—"

"I know," Rosa gently interrupted, taking care not to betray the growing worry in her heart. "I know very well all you've done for him." He, and all of Baron's white mages, were doing what the queen of Baron could not: devoting their energy to protecting their sleeping king, solving the puzzle of why he slumbered.

The queen had a country to run, seeing to the daily operation of Baron and accepting the support of Fabul, Eblan, Damcyan, even Mist (what little it could spare). But thanks to the support of the chancellor and the royal retinue, her evenings were hers to spend as she wished. To spend with her husband.

She was mulling over yet another variation on an esuna spell, half-watching the delicate flutter of Cecil's eyelashes, when a spark lit the corner of her vision. Startled, she looked at the twilit sky—and there, framed by the window over Cecil's prone form, a star plummeted to the earth.

For some reason, Rosa's mind flashed to the Giant of Babil, to the rays of light it shot at their planet—and then the star landed with an explosion audible even at this distance.

Did she imagine a twitch of Cecil's fingers, or was the earth itself shaking?

But Cecil was safe, and right now— "Mysidia," Rosa breathed. Considering where the star had landed, the people of Mysidia might not be. "Please, watch him!"

By the time she made it to the throne room, the Chancellor was waiting with the captains of the Guard and Red Wings. "Your Majesty," he said with a bow, his harried tone even more pronounced than usual. "The meteor landed near—"

"Mysidia," she said. "Is the whisperweed ready?"

An aide stepped forward bearing the pot engraved 'Mysidia,' hushed voices already rising from the whisperweed's blooms. Rosa very nearly teared up, then, in thankfulness for their kingdom, for their allies, for their support of one who had never wished to rule alone. But this was no time for reflection, so she blinked back her tears and leaned into the plant. "Elder?"

"Queen Rosa!" the Elder's voice exclaimed, muffled by distance, and Rosa let out a breath. The meteor had not landed too closely to the town, at least, or he would have sounded a good deal less lively. His voice grew clearer as he drew closer to the plant. "I presume you've seen our visitor?"

"I have. Are you in need of our assistance? Is anyone hurt?"

"Oh, no, my dear. A few scratches from the quake, but we've more than enough white mages eager for some practice. It landed near the mountains to the east, we suspect."

The mountains, east of Mysidia—oh, no. "Mount Ordeals?"

"Farther north than that—she'll be rolling out paladins for longer than either of us will be around. Speaking of, how is your Cecil?"

"Still sleeping," she said, but something about this made her wonder... "Do you think it's from the moon? The Red Moon?" There seemed to be a mild clamor around her, but she ignored it in favor of the Elder's response.

"The Red Moon?" he repeated, surprised. "I've no reason to think so—it's still retreating, and Corio hasn't reported anything amiss. Did Cecil...?" He trailed off, and Rosa wasn't sure what question to answer. Did Cecil react to the falling star? Did he know what the Lunarians were doing? Did he say anything about his people sending a messenger, or hint that they would force him to sleep?

In any case, her answer was the same. "No. I only…" Hoped, that they were related, that the meteor held the key to Cecil's mind.

"We will be sending an expedition to the crash site tomorrow. Rosa, my dear, you will be the first to hear if they've discovered anything amiss once they return." She could hear his gentle smile, and his sympathy. "I am sure Cecil will be awake by the time they return."

"I do hope so," she said, softly. "Good night, Elder, and thank you."

"Good night," he said, and the aide took the whisperweed away with a nod.

And before she could second-guess herself, she turned to the captain of the Red Wings. "Prepare a flight to Mysidia. I will be joining the expedition."

"Your Majesty!" exclaimed the Chancellor. "You mustn't. It's too dangerous."

Rosa ignored the sinking feeling in her heart—she'd expected this reaction, after all. "I—" But she couldn't explain her own feelings, her own sense of urgency, so how could she explain them to him? "I think this is connected. This meteor, Cecil's illness, the Lunarians—I just need to find out for sure."

He shrank back at the mention of the Lunarians—even now, even knowing Cecil since he was a boy, he was uncomfortable hearing of the alien half of his ancestry. Perhaps _because_ he'd known Cecil since he was a boy, a dark part of her admitted. "Is every star to be a warning from that accursed moon?" Seeing the hurt on Rosa's face, his voice softened. "Leave the investigation to Mysidia, Your Majesty. You cannot leave Baron unattended, not while the King is unwell."

"Baron has survived without a monarch, Chancellor! Cecil—" Her voice broke, but she swallowed and continued. "Cecil may not."

"All the more reason to stay with him." He reached out to touch her hand. "Please, Queen Rosa."

"Your Majesty," said the captain of the Red Wings, stepping forward. "We will fly to Mysidia tomorrow morning to offer our support. You need not travel yourself."

Rosa closed her eyes.

There was no reason for her to go. Just a whim, a nagging possibility that wouldn't leave her mind, a gut feeling pulling her to that star and whatever came with it—

"Thank you, but there's no need to indulge me just yet." She gave them a small smile. "I'll leave this to Mysidia."

 

* * *

 

It had been a good many years since she had last worn the uniform of a white mage. She dressed as a queen now, of course, but she had never liked the cumbersome garment even when she was in training. The red-trimmed hooded cloak that still hung in her wardrobe had its uses, though.

Cecil may have learned that preventing Rosa from going where she was needed was pointless. Their retainers, though….well, they were still learning.

After checking her pack one last time—her map, plenty of ethers, a few elixirs, and enough emergency exits to get her out of any fight she couldn't handle—she slung her bow and quiver onto her back and pulled her cloak on over it. A tight fit, but it would do for now. She briefly considered floating out the window instead; that would have been a handy trick in her younger days, but no need to take unnecessary risks now.

The meteor itself, she had a feeling, was a necessary risk.

Dozens of mages training day and night filled the air with too much magical interference to simply teleport past the castle guards. But Rosa was not so far removed from her days as a frazzled young apprentice that she couldn't play the part, her nose buried in a hand-drawn map like she was studying for an important exam. And though Cecil and his predecessor had ensured the guards were well-trained, she remembered, too, how easy it was to slip past when blushing and stammering a few words about meeting her beau.

Next came the difficult part. Had Cid not been away meeting with King Giott, he would certainly have taken her to Mysidia. But Rosa had convinced him not to rush back to Baron, that pacing back and forth in Cecil's room nonstop would help none of them. In any case, bringing an airship to the crash site might scare off—

There was one other way to travel to Mysidia, and beyond, in one night. And as royalty, Rosa could unlock the door to the Devil's Road. The Devil's Road that Cecil had been mapping out, poring over the technology left behind by his father, one of the few ways he could connect with his people. Judging from the meandering map of teleporters, efficiency was not a Lunarian virtue. Or maybe, she realized, it made sense in a way beyond her understanding, perhaps beyond even Cecil's.

Rosa followed the carefully-numbered sequence of teleporters, quashing the chill running up her spine as the cool blue light transported her farther and faster than her own magic could. They'd examined the maps together, in happier times: Cecil describing how much larger the network was than anyone knew while Rosa reasoned over the implications for trade. Now, though, the only route that concerned her was the one leading to the teleporter located east of Mysidia, north of Mount Ordeals, in a location that none had any reason to visit. And when she took her final step onto the glowing circle, fighting the growing urge to lay down and rest—

The sight reminded her of nothing so much as the surface of the moon.

Where there once had been scattered grass and trees, there was only dirt and rock and scorched ground, and a massive crater swallowing the landscape. Fortunately, Lunarian technology was hardy—the teleporter was slightly singed but still functional. Her way home secure, Rosa doffed her cloak and approached the impact site. Even with her hastily-cast float spell, she could still feel the heat rising up from the earth.

She knew, even before she saw what lay in the center of the crater, that it was not a meteor that had fallen.

It was an airship—metal-plated, strong enough to survive a trip past the sky, to the moon itself. Even with the ship half-buried in the ground, its metal crumpled, its resemblance to the Lunar Whale was clear. Rosa moved closer, heart pounding in her chest.

The hatch was open.

Whoever was in there may need help. Whoever was in there may know what happened to Cecil.

Murmuring shell and protect spells, she glanced around for a sign of the pilot—nothing, not even footprints. Nothing to do, then, but go inside.

Her breathing was loud, the harsh metal walls of the ship amplifying every noise. If the inhabitants could hear her coming, at least she could hear them as well. And if it was someone like Zemus, someone who could invade her mind without even seeing her—well, Zemus didn't need a ship.

Rosa carefully made her way through the surprisingly intact corridor (Lunarian technology really _was_ sturdy). The deck was smaller than the Lunar Whale's; its crystal was smaller as well, but more noticeable were the deep cracks on the crystal's surface, the absence of a low hum. There, at the far side of the deck, were the controls, to her eyes identical to the ones Cecil had used so naturally on the Lunar Whale. It was so easy to forget his heritage when he was still the same man she'd fallen in love with before they knew, so noble and human. His loyalty, his love, his hair the color of stars—they were all born on their Blue Planet, they all belonged here.

She placed her hands on the incomprehensible array of lights and switches and wondered just how different they really were.

There were no footsteps to warn her, only a low voice. "Cecil is in danger." Slowly, carefully, Rosa turned to see the imposing man clad in beads and black floating behind her.

She knew his face. She'd never seen it, not in person—but those were Cecil's eyes, clear and violet, Cecil's nose, sharp and noble, Cecil's hair, wild in a way she hadn't seen since they were young.

More than that, she knew his _voice_.

Deep and foreboding, the voice was one she sometimes heard in her nightmares, where it was distorted by a helmet as twisted as hatred given form. The voice, his and Kain's, that spoke of her as a _prize_ —

She had urged Cecil to forgive him. They all had.

She never thought he would come back.

Rosa took a deep breath, willing her pulse to calm. "Golbez. How—why are you here?"

Golbez did not answer, simply regarding her steadily while Rosa stilled her impatient tongue. Finally, he replied, "Cecil slept, and I awoke."

The trepidation in her heart began to war with hope. She was right—they were connected, Cecil and his people, the Red Moon and the Blue Planet. Cecil and his brother. "Do you know how to help him?"

He fell silent again, his arms crossed, his face as impassive as the helmet he once wore. The echoes off the metal walls, the gravity of his presence—she could almost feel the weight of the chains binding her. "I do."

Biting back her frustration, her helplessness, Rosa asked, "How?"

"You need not concern yourself." And with that, he turned and floated towards the hatch—of all things, _this_ was what ran in the family?

"Golbez!" She followed him, anger quickening her movements. "I'm tired of watching my husband wither away. I can help. I'm coming with you."

Even without the armor, the force of Golbez's glare was enough to make her falter. "This is a family matter."

"I'm his family, too. I'm the one who _stayed_ with him."

Whatever emotion flickered over his face was immediately smothered. With a grunt, Golbez turned his back and continued towards the exit.

"You expect trouble, don't you?" Golbez didn't stop, and neither did she. "How many potions can you carry? How far can you go without healing magic?"

She could see the tension in his shoulders, now, as he made his way through the crumpled corridor. "You will be a liability."

She almost answered in kind, but then—then she remembered the sound of his voice as he left Cecil for the last time. "You care about him," she said, and he stopped at last. "Then don't you want the best chance to save him?"

He was silent for a long moment, and Rosa held her breath. Finally, finally, he turned towards her. "We will need supplies."

Rosa could have _hugged_ him. "I have plenty back in Baron. How much will we need?"

Golbez shook his head. "Baron will take far too long. Our objective lies at Mount Ordeals."

Mount Ordeals—of course it was Mount Ordeals, where Cecil's journey had begun. "Not if you take the Devil's Road—it goes almost anywhere on the planet. Cecil's been mapping it out."

"...ah." Golbez's look of surprise was especially gratifying after he'd snuck up on her like that. "Then go to Baron. We will meet here in the morning."

"Wouldn't you like to see Cecil? I can take you to him."

Golbez snorted. "However inattentive Baron guards are, my presence in a sickroom would hardly go unnoticed."

Struggling to keep the frustration from her voice, she responded, "Not if you stole in through the window after I ask for some privacy. Don't you want to see your—"

"It is not necessary."

Chilly _bastard_.

She did not question his intentions—not after he had nearly laid down his life for the Blue Planet, for Cecil. But to travel with such a man, after all he had done to Baron, to her—

It frightened her, she realized. After all she had been through, this was what frightened her? He was only a man, one who was not aiming to do her harm. Her _brother-in-law_ (and wasn't that absurd? He surely would have dampened the mood at their wedding).

"At least come to Baron. We both need a good night's sleep to be at our best."

"I've slept enough."

"And breakfast."

"Hn." Whatever Golbez had brought from the moon wasn't likely to compare to a fresh meal, and he knew it.

"It's an hour or so through the Devil's Road, then I'll get you a bed at the inn. Just try not to draw attention…" She looked at him, at the kilt and cape and little else he was wearing. That could be difficult. "I can find you a cloak."

"There are few who would recognize me," he said, stiffly. "Anything beyond that does not matter. Let us not waste any more time." He floated out, then, and Rosa pulled out her own cloak from her pack.

She was cold, suddenly.

 

* * *

 

Early the next morning, after stopping to see Cecil, to kiss his uncharacteristically pale lips, Rosa snuck out of the castle once more. She had left a note, this time—the climb up Mount Ordeals would take more than a night, and if Baron would be left without a queen as well, they deserved to know.

She was not neglecting her duty to Baron, she reminded herself again. What greater duty was there than saving the life of its king?

Cloak pulled tightly around her, Rosa set out to the inn—and she couldn't miss the innkeeper's flinch when she opened the door. Oh, dear. Even without being outright recognized, an unusually tall and muscular man glowering in the common area was more than enough to put people on edge. Noting the conspicuous lack of other customers, Rosa made a mental note to formally apologize when she came back.

Golbez tossed the bag of gil Rosa had supplied on the counter and went to join her. At least she had thought to include a considerable bonus.

"One more stop," she said. And, ignoring how much she herself was on edge, she led him across town.

This was the most convenient way to get breakfast and top off their supplies without arousing suspicion, of course. Introducing Golbez to her mother, though—maybe she was taking a bit of petty glee out of it.

"Oh! I didn't know Cecil had living family! Are you here to help? Here, sit down, sit down. Aren't you cold in that getup? Let me get you a blanket."

"I am...." He trailed off, obediently sitting down, looking remarkably like he had been hit by a hold spell.

"Rosa, would you be a dear and stir the pot? There should be enough porridge for the three of us." Rosa filled the teakettle, biting back a smile, as her mother dug through the linen chest. "Have you been on the Blue Planet long? What should I call—"

Rosa hurriedly interrupted. "Mother, do you have any food we can take with us?"

"Of course, dear. How much do you need?"

"Four days, at most," said Golbez, and Rosa was privately amused at how much less intimidating he sounded.

"Four days? Well, it may not be fancy, but I have some provisions that should do. Now, is there any reason you haven't picked this up from the castle stores?"

Rosa coughed. "Uh—"

"Don't worry, dear, I know you have your reasons." Finally finding the blanket, she tucked it over Golbez's lap. "There, much better. Is that Lunarian fashion?"

"...no." He did not elaborate.

It hit her, then, that Cecil's mother had died in childbirth, that his father had died before Cecil could meet him—that Golbez had not been taken in by a kindly king and queen afterwards.

Had he been taken in by anyone at all, but the hateful voice in his mind?

Swallowing, Rosa poured the porridge into three bowls and brought them over. She served Golbez first, a silent—apology? Sympathy? He wouldn't accept either, she had a feeling. Her mother fetched them milk, and asked as she sat down, "And what will you be doing?"

"We leave for Mount Ordeals," Golbez said. Apparently food and blankets were what were needed to encourage him to be forthcoming.

"Oh." Her mother seemed to sag, almost. "That's very dangerous, isn't it? There are paladins who never come back, Rosa—"

"I've been to the moon, mother. I can handle this."

"Can't you take your guards with you? Or your friends?"

"They have their own issues to deal with." And those who weren't otherwise occupied, like Cid and Rydia were, would have some inconvenient questions to ask about their guide. Even if they were willing to work with their former foe, it would take—

"Time is of the essence," Golbez said, quietly. "As is discretion. A larger party would hinder our chances."

Rosa hid her surprise with a sip of tea—she hadn't expected help from his front. More than that, she hadn't expected the warmth from realizing that he did trust her.

"Are you sure, Rosa? You always rush into danger—" She held up a hand before Rosa could argue. "You know very well it's true, since before you could walk. I—I just want to know that you're sure. Especially now."

Rosa looked down at the table, blinking away the blurriness in her vision. "Cecil would do the same for me. He _has_ done the same for me." She reached over the table, blindly, finding her mother's hand and holding it tightly. "I need to do this. I'm sure."

Her mother squeezed her hand, holding on for a long moment. "Then let me get you your food so you can get going. Now, where did I put those rolls?" Chattering brightly, her voice sounding almost normal, she started poking through her cupboards. Rosa finished her tea, and her porridge, and didn't look at Golbez.

A few minutes later, her mother came back in, bags in hand. "Here you are. I've packed you food, and canteens, and some extra ethers—"

Rosa gave her a fond smile. "I always pack enough ethers, Mother," she said, standing up to take the bag.

Her mother hugged Rosa, as tightly as she had when she returned after her kidnapping, after her desert fever. "Be careful, Rosa. Please be careful."

"I will," she said, returning the hug. "And I'll bring Cecil over for dinner as soon as he's better.”

Her mother smiled at Golbez, eyes bright with worry. "And you be careful as well. Keep them safe."

"Yes," he said, not even a hint of amusement in his tone. "I will." Say what you would about Golbez, but the certainty with which he spoke—from the way her mother's shoulders relaxed, she could tell she believed him.

Right then, so did Rosa.

She gave her mother one last lingering hug. And then, she turned towards the Devil's Road, toward Mysidia, toward the mountain.

 

* * *

 

She'd never visited Mount Ordeals herself, only demanded Cecil tell so much of his journey that she felt as if she'd travelled with him, seen the dark armor melt off his skin. But this—the dead rising from the very earth below their feet the moment they stepped on the trail—this felt more dangerous than the tales she'd heard. Golbez's hands blazed, meteors trapped in slow motion, and the zombie was engulfed, burned to ashes within moments. It was beautiful, this power, the fierce rage of flames that frightened Baron's young white mages until the black magic instructors showed them the poetry behind it.

"Your arrows will not harm the skeletons," he said, words effortless as the motions of his hands. "Focus your efforts on the zombies."

"I have fought undead before, you know." She let a curaja spell light up her own hands—far gentler than the roiling flames, and yet— "You really do need a white mage, don't you?" With that, Rosa released the spell in a gentle arc, towards their enemies, towards the undead flesh that burned as surely in healing light as it did in fire.

A quiet "Hmm," was Golbez's only response, but he left the undead approaching on their right to her from then on.

It was hard work, even outside of the scratches and bites and wounds she suffered. It was harder and harder to think, to pull the magical energies into spells, to avoid even a clumsy attack headed for her stomach—

But Golbez was there, his body shielding hers, and the jolt of adrenaline had her healing the wound he took for her before she fully realized it. She couldn't help but think of the times she'd done this for Cecil, kept him alive as he shielded her, all of their allies.

"Thank you," she said, as they caught their breath after the danger has passed.

Golbez nodded, curtly, and regarded her for a moment. "And you," he finally said, floating up the path before she could react.

Well. He likely hadn't had cause to practice his manners for some time.

It was a start.

They didn't talk much for the next several hours, besides words of warning and of gratitude (from both of them, to Rosa's surprise); despite their skills, the sheer number of assailants meant even a simple mistake could turn to an overwhelming defeat.

When Golbez finally murmured "Scarmiglione," while surveying the next curve in the path, it took Rosa a moment to realize he was saying a name.

"The fiend of the dead? Is this its doing?"

"Earth," he answered, distracted. "No. These are his legions, but he remains at peace."

"Then—" She strengthened the protect spells surrounding them, readied a curaga for the decayed corpse crawling down the path. "Then who?"

"I—" Something in his voice made her look to him, to notice how he was staring up the mountain but not seeing. "I do not know."

He was lying.

Rosa said, softly, "Golbez…"

"Pay attention," he said, sharply, although their enemy was not yet in range of their attacks.

She did.

But paying attention was difficult, now. Soon, she pulled out her bow and notched an arrow glowing with holy light, because drawing this deeply into her reserves of magic took a toll that ethers alone could not erase. And judging from how Golbez's feet were planted on the ground, had been since his float spell wore off at least an hour ago, he was feeling the exhaustion too. Rosa caught his eyes, and he nodded.

As they climbed up the mountain, she looked for convenient spots for a campsite—flat ground, at the very least, with a sturdy overhang to protect them from the elements if they could find one. Golbez paused after rounding a turn, and Rosa, cheered at the thought of resting, hurried to see.

It was an ideal campsite, with a shallow cave for shelter and a clearing for a campfire to keep the hordes away. Ideal enough that it had been used, not long before. Golbez was examining the scorch marks on the ground, the remains of a campfire that couldn't be swept away as easily as footprints had been. Inside the cave, there was a stockpile of dry wood in the far corner, a discarded canteen by the entrance. Someone had been here. Someone had been _living_ here.

Rosa swallowed, and for so many reasons, it was hard to breathe.

So this is where he'd been.

Golbez, she saw once she emerged, was crouching close to the ground, examining the remains of the fire. "Be alert," he said. "Not all those who walk this path are virtuous."

Rosa shook her head. "He isn't here." Of course he wasn't here. "He would have left as soon as he saw our approach."

She could sense the question in Golbez's eyes, but she could be reticent, too. And surely he, even with what little contact he had with her and Cecil, could work out who had always been at their side before.

Golbez studied the ashes, the swept-out footprints, and was silent.

"Let us rest," she said, moving past him to unpack her bedroll inside the cave.

They would not be meeting him, she knew. Perhaps it was Golbez he didn't want to see this time.

Golbez slung his own pack off his back before taking some firewood outside. Rosa climbed into her bedroll, eyes slipping shut the second she lay down. She could just barely hear the murmur of a spell before the whoosh of the wood igniting, the gentle crackling of the fire.

"I will take first watch," Golbez said, voice suddenly close.

Rosa startled—had she fallen asleep in the moment he'd been out? Yes, that seemed best. "Thank you," she said, eyes drowsily closing. And she was too tired not to ask the question that filled her thoughts. "Golbez? Do you truly know how to save him?"

She was nearly asleep before he finally answered. "I...believe so."

The air outside was full of unsettling noises—the wind whipping past the heights of the mountain, the mournful groaning of the dead themselves. But here, there was only the fire, and Golbez's steady breathing.

Rosa slept, and she did not dream.

Golbez woke her, too soon, and she took his place watching the small circle of firelight swallowed by the night sky. She listened to the fire, to his breathing, and thought of Cecil's voice and smile and his eyes, open and looking back at hers.

Dawn came, eventually, and no disaster with it; the few undead who had strayed too close to the camp, Rosa had eased away with a confusion spell. She moved to wake Golbez—oh. She had to stifle a laugh, at how he was covered in her mother's well-worn blanket. Of course she had included a little extra.

"Good morning," she said, gathering food out of her pack.

Golbez snapped awake instantly—really, she thought he'd be more of a heavy sleeper. "Has your energy returned?"

She huffed a laugh, passing him his portion of breakfast. "Why yes, I slept well. You?"

Their meal passed quickly and quietly, and soon it was time to leave. They were less than a day's journey from the mountaintop, even at the slow pace they were forced to take. Today, they would save Cecil, however Golbez planned. Or today they would fail.

The battles together were easier, this second day. It was uncanny, how much fighting alongside Golbez was like fighting alongside Cecil. Despite his lack of armor, his reliance on magic, she instinctively knew when he needed healing, when he would block a blow aimed at her body. And Golbez, too, knew when to support her, when to stay out of the way of the holy light or paralyzing blast aimed at their latest enemy.

They fought, and fought, until the hordes were finally cleared, until they stood on top of Mount Ordeals. She recognized it, from Cecil's descriptions: the crystals encircling a chamber, the first man-made (Lunarian-made?) structure on the long journey up the mountain. There was only a door, an ornate, otherworldly door, between them and—whatever they had come to do.

Rosa walked to the door, slowly, and traced her hand over the engravings. She could not hear what lay inside. What had Cecil felt, giving up all his training to become a paladin? Standing up against the king who was as good as a father, rejecting the orders he was given? Had he rested his palm on the door and wondered what was inside?

Had he been afraid?

Behind her, Golbez's voice was soft. "We are neither of us paladins."

Rosa froze, the stone cold against her fingers. "I—" She swallowed. "I never wanted to be."

"You have never dreamed of being other than you are?"

She looked back at Golbez, suddenly, irrationally afraid he was mocking her. But no, his face was solemn, almost gentle—and his eyes were somehow still cloaked in shadow. "What did you dream of?"

He hesitated—had she pushed too far? But to her surprise, he answered. "I wished to be a warlock, from my youngest days." He unfolded his arms, his movements less assured than usual. "But when my father...was injured...I could not help him. I had not practiced even the simplest of white magic." Holding his hand out, his fingers glowed white—weakly, barely a reflection of the power Rosa drew on every day. "I could not save my mother, after him. Had they died today...I still could not save them."

And to realize his brother could do what he could not... "Some wounds not even the greatest of healers can fix," she said, softly. But the pain in Golbez's face didn't ease, so her words kept coming. "I had trained to be a white mage since I was young; my mother was a healer, so she taught me while she worked. But—" Was she _blushing_? She's never told anyone else about this, after all. "I sometimes daydreamed about being a ninja. When we played together, Cecil and Kain and I, and they expected me to be the healer—some days I said no. I wanted to be the hero, too." Golbez was listening, without judgement, simply listening. "But then Cecil joined the Red Wings, and the thought of him being hurt—" Then, there was no question at all.

"Your kindness is your strength," he said, clearly choosing his words with care. "But it is not its sum."

"And yours is more than darkness." Perhaps it was only now that she truly believed it, now that she'd more than fought by his side, now that she'd seen a glimpse of who he might have been without Zemus. Golbez's expression was more open than she'd ever seen—it reminded her, suddenly, of the way he'd sounded back in the Giant of Babil, back when Fusoya had shown him the first kindness he must have experienced in a long, long time.

It was a silly idea, that a man like Golbez needed a hug. But when he stepped forward, ready to face anything to save his brother—she met him halfway, and she hugged him anyway.

And when he finally returned it, gingerly, she wondered if he'd had one since the last time he held his brother, since Zemus took root in his mind.

Perhaps a man like him needed one more than anyone.

But still, they had work to do. After a few moments more, he let go; there they stood, side by side at the entrance to the chamber where Cecil had become a paladin, where the key to his life lay now. She would never have guessed Golbez's presence would be a comfort—his massive frame a shield, his metal horns replaced by familiar shimmering hair.

They were ready. For Cecil, they were ready.

Golbez laid a hand on the door, his face as intent as if he were calling to whatever was inside.

As if it were answering, the door slowly slid open.

There were no warped reflections waiting for them—no mage of light serving an unrepentant dark knight, no warlock clad in darkness.

Instead, there was—

"A dragon," Rosa whispered, voice echoing in the chamber that suddenly seemed too small. Or, more accurately, what had once been a dragon. Skin that may have gleamed crystal turned paler still with death, sloughing off its muscle and its bones. Its eyes, though—they were alive, and they were glowing with rage. But Golbez, Golbez had known what would be here already—

"Father?" he addressed it, voice unnaturally steady.

The dragon snarled, "No."

Rosa stared at Golbez, horrified. "You thought this was your _father_? Cecil's father? Why would he—"

"For the same reason I did," he said, voice tight, his gaze locked on the dragon. "What have you done to my brother?"

"Brother—" Its eyes narrowed. "I did to your brother what your father did to _me_." It stood up, its form massive in the confined cavern, and—Rosa gasped when she saw what its tail was curled around. A grave. Kluya's grave. "What right had an _alien_ to confine me? In the name of his precious humans? I took no more than I needed to survive, for hundreds of years, and he sees fit to hunt me down for taking the humans from _his_ territory? To murder me, to leave me trapped and unable to wake even then?"

Golbez stepped forward, his anger filling the tomb as surely as the dragon did. "What have you done to my brother?"

"He awakened me, so I gifted him my curse." Rosa's mind was racing, even as she gathered the energy for haste spells—killing the dragon would break the spell on Cecil, shouldn't it? "And now I shall feed on his fellow paladins. I shall be their new trial. But you, son of Kluya?" Eyes flashing, it reared back— "You shall be first to sate my hunger."

They moved at the same time, all three of them—Rosa casting haste, Golbez flinging a fireball, the dragon lunging forward to viciously snap at Golbez's arm. Dodging was out of the question in quarters so close—and so Rosa healed Golbez, healed herself, over and over for every bite, every scratch, every burn from the flames the dragon spewed out. And Golbez—Golbez fought not with a lust for power, not just with the need to save his brother, but with rage. He attacked, calling forth every element, every spell he knew to bear down on the creature that threatened his family. And the dragon, it fought for itself—just as brutal, just as mad, every attack driving to hurt the son of the man who had slain it.

As they fought, Rosa saw the wounds on the creature's back—not the fading scars from bursts of lightning, of fire and ice, but the newer wounds, barely a week or two old. Slashes from a broadsword, the edges charred from holy light. Spear punctures.

But she had no time to think about that—about what had happened to the man wielding a spear, whether he had fallen first—because Golbez was crouched over, breathing heavily as he struggled to stay upright, and she barely had the time for an ether before healing him. Even hasted they were falling behind, and the dragon was breathing in for a final burst of flame—

And as Golbez moved in front of her, just as she knew he would, Rosa held out her hands to him and poured all her energy into a— _"Reflect!"_

The fireball hit the shield surrounding Golbez, flashing white-hot before bouncing back to engulf the dragon, the shrieks of fire and pain blending into one. As the dragon reeled, Golbez made a strange motion with his hands, like no spell she'd ever seen—and suddenly, there was another dragon, dark and sinuous, wrapping around their enemy with a roar, an icy spell entwining with it until their enemy was unable to move, unable to attack. The dragons, locked in their deadly struggle, reflected endlessly in the walls of the cavern, the tomb—and it almost looked like one of the reflected dark dragons was taking its own path, helping wear down their enemy from beyond the crystal wall.

Golbez stepped forward, then, until he stood in front of the undead dragon. Its eyes, half-closed already, met Golbez's. "Will you imprison me again?" it rasped.

The Golbez she had feared might have, might have enslaved the dragon for his own ends. Instead, this Golbez—he simply bowed his head as his breathing slowed, until he could make a decision that was his alone.

"Be at peace," he said, voice low.

His own dragon was suddenly spiraling around nothing but a cloud of dust, slowly dispersing from the grave it had been choking.

His dragon curled around Golbez's shoulders, eyeing Rosa curiously, but her eyes were inexorably drawn to its reflection in the back wall of the tomb. There stood images of Rosa, her face drawn with exhaustion; Golbez, eyes shadowed and coiled dragon slowly dissipating; and another figure standing between them. An unassuming man dressed in mage's robes, hair and beard as blue-black as the night sky.

It took hearing Golbez's sharp breath to recognize his hands, his nose, the look in his eyes.

"My son," said Kluya. "Theodor."

Golbez strode towards the vision, and he looked—he looked wracked with guilt. It was suddenly easy to picture that scared little boy, trying desperately to save his parents. "Father." Stepping closer, he raised his hand as if to touch the wall, and hesitated. "I'm sorry."

Kluya's hand rested against the other side of the wall, separated by crystal and death and twenty years. "I do not blame you, my son. I have never blamed you. Only Zemus, and myself for leaving you behind."

"I was—"

"You were a _child_." Staring at his son, lost for so long, his eyes were filled with grief. "And you both were alone." He bowed his head then, resting it against the wrong side of the wall—and Golbez leaned to meet him, their foreheads nearly touching.

Rosa watched them, not wanting to even breathe in case the moment was broken. So she looked, learning the face of her father-in-law, so like Cecil's. Would Cecil look like him, when he grew old? Did Lunarians—did half-Lunarians—grow old as humans did?

When Kluya finally stepped back from the wall, it was to look at her. "Hello," she said, stepping forward. "I'm Rosa. Cecil's wife. I—" She was blinking back tears, suddenly, that Cecil could not be here. "I'm glad to meet you."

"Rosa," Kluya said, softly, like he was trying out the name in his mind. "Thank you for caring for him. He is in good hands with you, I see. The both of you."

Vision blurring, Rosa smiled at her father-in-law. "He's king of Baron now, did you know that? With your help."

His beam could have lit up the night sky. "I will keep you from him no longer, Your Majesty." He was fading at the edges, now, he and his grave glowing with the same ethereal light.

"Goodbye, Rosa. Goodbye, Theodor." He smiled at Golbez, at his son, who was drinking in the face he hadn't seen for twenty years. "Your mother sends her love."

"Goodbye," said Golbez.

And then, Kluya was gone.

She didn't know what to say.

"Theodor?" she asked, softly. At his nod, she couldn't help a surprised laugh. The terror of the Blue Planet, named Theodor? "It doesn't suit you."

"No," he said, and closed his eyes.

She took his arm, and led him back to the mountain.

 

* * *

 

The way down the mountain was significantly easier, with even the usual hostile wildlife making themselves scarce; but by the time they made it back to their cave, Golbez was looking even more solemn than usual. "Are you all right?" she asked, softly.

He started, eyes focusing on her. "Cecil still sleeps."

Rosa's stomach dropped. "What? But—we killed the caster—" But Kluya's death had not been enough to break the curse on the beast, had it? Rosa swallowed, hard, and looked at Golbez. "If we hurry, we can make it home tonight."

Golbez nodded, sharply, and she could see the worry in his eyes, the worry that he had been hiding since the moment she found him in the crater.

It was a long night, and neither of them felt much like talking. Rosa counted her steps, thought over spell modifications, did anything but think of what she would do without Cecil, what Baron would do without its king.

It was early morning when they returned to Baron Castle. Still, there were enough guards on duty to be startled when their missing queen strode through the front door with a striking, barely-dressed man greatly resembling their king following her. One of them hesitantly asked, "Your Majesty…?"

"I will explain later," she said as they walked, beating a hasty path to Cecil's sickroom.

And Cecil—he looked the same. Lying as peacefully as he did on any long night, exactly as he had for the years they had slept in the same bed, exactly as he had for the days and nights since he had been found at the gates of Baron.

The full depth of her exhaustion caught up to her all at once, as she saw Cecil sleeping so peacefully, still. And so she sank into the chair beside his bed, the same chair she had spent every evening in  until the meteor fell, until Golbez came to rescue his brother.

Golbez, who was still hesitating in the doorway, his eyes on Cecil.

Rosa pulled up a chair for him, on the other side of the bed. "Golbez," she said. And when he still didn't move, she walked over and tugged gently at his arm until he followed her, took his place at Cecil's side.

"Cecil," she said, softly, taking his hand. "How are you, my love? There's someone here to see you."

Golbez simply stared at Cecil, steadily, until Rosa cleared her throat. Finally, he said, "Hello, brother."

"We made our own pilgrimage to Mount Ordeals—I'll leave the holy sword to you, though." Brushing Cecil's hair from his forehead, she continued, letting him hear her voice. "We met your father. He's a wonderful man—we should visit him, once in a while."

And when she caught Golbez's eyes, he slowly took Cecil's other hand. He wasn't one for talking, she knew that, but as long as Cecil knew he was there, maybe they could—

"Come back, Cecil. For your family." She slid their enjoined hands to her belly, to the child she knew would someday love their father with all their heart. At Golbez's quiet breath of surprise, Rosa squeezed her husband's hand. "Please, my love. We're all here."

Perhaps the spell needed to wear off with time. Perhaps it was his family, the bonds of blood and love, urging him back. Perhaps it was Kluya's help, now that his grave was undisturbed. Whatever it was, Rosa didn't care, because Cecil, Cecil was finally opening his eyes.

"Rosa?" His voice was hoarse, rusty from disuse, and it had never sounded more beautiful.

"Oh, Cecil," she breathed, and then she was holding him as hard as she could, tears staining his cheeks. " _Cecil_."

His arms wrapping around her, Cecil held her close—oh, she had missed this so very much. When her tears finally subsided—she had so long to celebrate, after all, the rest of their lives—Rosa pulled out of his embrace. She couldn't take up all his attention, not when there was someone else he needed to see.

Looking to his left, Cecil's eyes landed on the face he'd never seen, not when he was able to remember. But Cecil—of course Cecil knew him. "Golbez," he said, staring at him as he did the moon. "I could hear you while I was sleeping. And my—our father."

"I no longer heard you," he said, gravely. Rosa felt a quiet, ridiculous surge of jealousy, that he could be so close to Cecil in a way she never could.

Cecil smiled at him, his gratitude written across his face, and just then Rosa could almost forget everything that had torn the brothers apart. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you for coming back." Golbez, clearly uncomfortable, looked away.

"Cecil," she asked before the silence could linger, "how did the dragon find you?"

"I found it, to be precise. I took a detour on the Devil's Road, and the teleporter left me in front of a cave on Mount Ordeals. I sensed something wrong, so I went to investigate and…" His half-smile suddenly faded. "Kain. The dragon attacked me, and Kain was there, out of nowhere. He must have brought me here. Did he—has he—"

"No," Rosa said, a mix of disappointment and relief churning in her stomach. "He hasn't been here since."

Cecil nodded, seemingly unsurprised. "Still, then," he said softly.

Still.

But the quiet disappointment in his eyes disappeared, and Cecil was looking at her with the same smile she fell in love with all those years ago. "I believe you have a story to tell me?"

Rosa smiled back, heart swelling with gratitude for their child, for her family, for her Cecil. And so she told him, through Golbez's departure, through the Chancellor's excited arrival, long into the night.

 

* * *

 

She could almost mistake him for Cecil. The nights after they had returned to the planet, Cecil had often stood at the window, bathed in the light of the moon, as if it would answer his questions, as if he could hear a voice from thousands of miles away.

But he was not Cecil. Cecil did not stand alone on the balcony, but near her at their bedroom window. Cecil belonged to the Blue Planet. But Golbez—

"Your ship is broken," she said, and it sounded like an accusation.

He didn't turn around. "I know how to repair it."

"Were you going to tell us?" Golbez stayed silent, but she knew exactly what was coming. "Or were you just going to leave without a word and never let us know where you are? If you're ever coming back? If you're even _alive_ —"

"Rosa," he said, gently, and she suddenly remembered who it was she was speaking to. "I am no citizen of Baron." He turned to her, his face grave. "A ruler's responsibility is to her people. To invite the man who terrorized those people in—"

"You are not that man," she said, the force of her statement surprising her. "Stay. It doesn't have to be forever. Get to know your brother." And when Golbez's expression didn't change, she impulsively added, "Theodor."

His startlement was barely noticeable—but on someone like him, it spoke volumes. "It doesn't suit me," he said.

"Golbez suits you less." Golbez belonged to fear, to the nightmarish figure who could transcend death, the marionette of a vengeful alien. Not to this atoning man, Cecil's family, her family. "You can repay your debts to Baron. You can meet your niece or nephew."

He nearly flinched. "I can never pay for all I've done."

"Then help us rebuild, like your father did."

He shook his head, his expression pained. "Not all of Baron is as forgiving as you.”

"Don't underestimate us, Theodor." Rosa stepped closer to him, willing him to _listen_. "Do you know how many people have forgiven Baron for what we've done? We destroyed Mist and Mysidia. Cecil—Cecil killed Rydia's mother, did you know that? And she is as dear a friend to us as any we've known our whole lives. The lives Cecil ended under the orders of another will never return, and their loved ones will never forget them. But they know Cecil is a good man, and they know he'll be spending the rest of his life working for what is right."

Theodor took a breath to respond—

"Rosa?" They turned as Cecil carefully walked onto the balcony, learning heavily on a cane. "Golbez," he said, and if his voice wasn't yet as warm as it was for Rosa, there was a softness to it that hadn't been there before. Rosa moved to help Cecil over to his brother, murmuring a libra spell to check how he was healing. Looking up at Theodor (it was still startling to see her husband looking up at anyone), he asked, "What will you do now?"

Rosa met Theodor's eyes, the same violet eyes as his brother's, and hoped he knew what she saw in them.

"I—" He looked to Rosa, to Cecil. "I wish to stay on the Blue Planet, for some time. If I am welcome."

Cecil hesitated. But Rosa knew his heart as well as her own, knew that after he had forgiven himself, there was no other answer he could give but— "Yes," he said. "You are."

And, perhaps for the first time in decades, Theodor smiled.

Rosa took Cecil's arm; Theodor, the other. And, together supporting him, they turned to go inside, to go home.

**Author's Note:**

> Content warnings: Pregnancy, adventuring while pregnant, zombies, boss fight against an animal.


End file.
